


Heart's-Truth-Fruit

by prairiecrow



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Culture, Cuddling and Snuggling, Drug Use, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Negotiations with an alien species can lead to some strange things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart's-Truth-Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> A stand-alone story set at the end of Season Two, pre-"Tribunal".

“The Fonosians call it Heart’s-Truth-Fruit,” Jadzia explained, handing a small vial of pale purple liquid to Julian. “It took a great deal of persuading to convince the envoy to part with a sample for testing. The Niastrum specifically said that he hopes we appreciate what a rare privilege they’ve granted us.”

“I do,” Julian assured her, accepting the vial with due care. He crossed to the Infirmary’s spectral analyzer and slotted the container of plant extract into it for analysis. “Let’s just hope the scan turns up nothing that will prove toxic to any of the species involved. If it does, you may have to do some fancy footwork to find some other way to prove that we’re worth entering into diplomatic relations with.”

Jadzia smiled. “I’m not too worried. They’ve been using this drink to seal pacts for centuries, and it certainly didn’t harm Curzon thirty years ago.”

“Well, Humans may be a different story. Or Bajorans, or Cardassians, or Ferengis.” He kept an eye on the analyzer’s readouts for several seconds, tapping the interface at intervals with an elegant fingertip. “Nothing so far... wait a minute... moderately high levels of tirazine opiate — that must be the active ingredient... and three less potent psychotropic chemicals.” He glanced at Jadzia with a frown. “What did you say it’s supposed to do again, exactly?”

“The Fonosians believe that they can’t enter into negotiations with any species whose spirit they haven’t explored. When drunk, Heart’s-Truth-Fruit wine is supposed to reveal the innermost reality of the participants. Traditionally the Fonosian delegation sits down with representatives of the new species they’re encountering and a bowl of the wine is passed around the circle; each person drinks and answers a question based on a theme determined by the Niastrum. The answers are short and usually metaphorical — Heart’s-Truth-Fruit is said to bring out the poetry in a person’s soul.”

The analyzer chimed softly and Julian looked over the results on its screen. “Well, there’s nothing here that I would forbid any of us to ingest, although it would induce a state of mild euphoria and the effects would probably last for a few hours.” He turned to face her fully. “So that’s all we have to do? Sit in a circle, drink wine, and answer a question?”

“Technically, yes. That’s not usually how it ends up, though.”

Julian’s eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”

“The wine opens people up both emotionally and psychologically. The Time of the Heart usually lasts for several hours as the participants discuss what they’ve expressed in the question-and-answer session, and sometimes take part in more sets of questions.” She smiled. “Depending on the nature of the questions, things can get... rather intimate.”

Ah, how his eyes brightened! She didn’t need to be a Betazoid to see what he was thinking: this would be a chance to get closer to her, a game she’d thought he’d given up on months ago. “Intimate?” She had to admit, he did have a lovely purr when he was in pursuit, and a very pretty smile. He leaned a little closer, his hazel eyes smouldering. “I think I might enjoy that — a lot.”

It was all Jadzia could do to keep from laughing and patting him on the head. Word was that he’d just broken up with his latest lady friend; obviously he was compensating. “It could be entertaining,” she agreed, keeping all trace of amusement out of her voice. “Or it could be quite boring. It’s all up to the Niastrum.” She nodded at the analyzer. “Commander Sisko will want to see that report as soon as possible.”

Julian shifted back into professional mode. “I’ll prepare it for him right away.”

“Good. And Julian? Wear something nice tonight. We want to make the best possible impression.”

He smiled. “Garak made me suit last month that will be perfect.”

Jadzia knew the outfit he was talking about: Andorian silk in a rich shade of indigo that complemented his caramel skin and brought out the warmth in his eyes, cut to emphasize his slender figure. She’d seen him strolling on the upper level of the Promenade in it late one evening, a lovely girl on his arm, her hand caressing the gorgeous material while his gaze devoured her. She wondered if Julian had any idea what the gift of the suit really meant: probably not, otherwise he wouldn’t be wasting his time on casual encounters.

“20:00, Holosuite Five,” she reminded him, and took her leave. Tonight would be very interesting indeed if she was any judge of the personalities involved... if nothing else, Quark alone should be worth the price of admission.

************************************

At 20:05 Jadzia was sitting comfortably on the holographic simulation of a Fonosian tiger’s skin, observing the seven station-mates arranged on her side of the Time of the Heart circle. Across the virtual fire sat six Fonosian delegates, including the Niastrum himself, resplendent in layered furs and a tall headdress bristling with rainbow feathers. His fellows were gorgeously arrayed in ritual splendour, gold and silver glinting at their ears and throats and wrists. Their sleek lionine faces, framed by dark manes threaded with more gold and tiny bells, were calm and majestic.

To Jadzia’s left Benjamin Sisko sat cross-legged with his hands on his knees, projecting calm authority. He wore a simple suit of bronze and burgundy that complimented his powerful build and dark skin; in his own way he looked as exotic and mysterious as his guests. To her right sat Major Kira Nerys sheathed in a pantsuit of copper and turquoise, likewise cross-legged and erect, eyeing the delegation almost grimly: she didn’t much like the idea of this ceremony, Jadzia knew, and wasn’t sure what to expect. Beside her Odo knelt, stiffly upright even in this situation which was supposed to encourage a certain informality, likewise watching the Fonosians as if expecting them to get up to no good at any moment, and beside him sat Quark in an outfit of gaudy tastelessness, leaning back on both hands, studying the aliens with a slight smile on his face and no doubt calculating just how much money they’d spend in his bar if and when they started coming to the station on a regular basis. Next to him Miles O’Brien sat a little awkwardly, propped up one hand, clearly no more happy to be here than Nerys and wearing a suit of plain grey and dark blue. Every so often he glanced to his immediate right, at Julian, who sat comfortably with his long legs folded beneath him and looked quite relaxed, if a little nervous. And to his right sat Garak, on his knees in a position which would allow him to spring to his feet immediately if things turned sour. The Cardassian was clad in black pants and a high-necked ebony tunic playfully embellished with flashes of blood red and royal purple; he looked pleasantly at ease, but Jadzia suspected he was more on guard than any of them.

Further out from the fire, also arranged in a circle, stood sloped surfaces covered in more soft animal hides — perfect for reclining against in order to talk quietly and intimately. They were only a couple of meters away, easy to get to under the effects of Heart’s-Truth-Fruit, big enough for two or three people to use comfortably, and separated by enough space in the shadows to ensure a degree of privacy. The last time Dax had been at such a ceremony, in the body of Curzon, at least one couple had ended up making love there, oblivious to the presence of the others, who were equally uncaring under the influence of the Fonosian’s potent wine. She doubted that tonight’s session would end in such a way, but if she’d learned one thing in three hundred and fifty-two years of existence it was that life was full of surprises.

In front of the Niastrum, who sat beside Garak, stood a small wooden bowl with a patina of long and ceremonial use, filled almost to the brim with the same pale purple fermented drink Julian had analyzed earlier in the afternoon. Now that the ritual greetings had been satisfactorily concluded the Fonosian leader picked it up, raised it toward the night sky overhead, said a brief prayer in a soft and fluid language, and took two mouthfuls of Heart’s-Truth-Fruit. For almost ten seconds he was silent, while his fellow Fonosians waited patiently and his hosts watched with varying degrees of fascination, anxiousness and professional interest. When at last he spoke his purring voice was almost musical in cadence:

“My friend is a blood-flower in the depths of the snow, the promise of spring in the midst of despair, cooling rain upon my fevered brow. In his eyes dwells truth, in his laughter dwells perfect joy, in his heart blessedness grows like a tree bearing good fruit. I eat of his bounty, and am satisfied. He is gold in my hand.”

The Fonosians nodded and murmured approval, shaking their wrists to produce a jingling of their multiple bracelets. The Niastrum inclined his head in solemn thanks and passed the bowl to his right, and the Fonosian drank... paused... and spoke on the theme of friendship.

And so it went down their side of the circle. Not every freeform poem merited the soft music of shaken gold and silver, but all received nods and looks of appreciation. By the time the bowl was handed to Benjamin Jadzia hoped the everyone from the station had at least some idea of what was expected of them: in any case, Heart’s-Truth-Fruit would surely inspire them to produce something, no matter how awkwardly phrased. She watched while Benjamin saluted the night sky and drank.

His eyes drifted closed, his expression becoming at first intent, then a little dreamy. The Fonosians leaned forward slightly, doubtless eager to hear what the alien leader would reveal to them. At last Benjamin spoke in a low and powerful lilt:

“My friend has been male and female, young and old, warrior and peacemaker — but always wise. She walks in beauty and her heart offers truth to all who seek to learn her mysteries. I see old eyes in young eyes and seek familiar paths in a new landscape, and I am never disappointed with where they lead me. She is the soul of hope that never dies.”

A murmur; the jingle of precious metals. Jadzia smiled, touched, and wished that she had jewelry to make manifest her own pleasure at such a lovely tribute. She settled for gazing warmly into her old friend’s eyes as he passed her the bowl, then took a moment to compose herself before swallowing the sweet, mildly astringent liquid.

At once the feeling hit her, recognized by Dax: warmth running down her limbs, a sense of new focus and clarity behind her eyes, as if an additional lense had dropped into place between her awareness and the contents of her mind. She knew enough to let herself relax and not to try to control what the Heart’s-Truth-Fruit produced: its function was to enhance intuition and bring subconscious patterns to the surface, and she’d advised all her fellow officers to let it do its work without trying to edit the results. She opened her mouth and spoke with complete candour:

“My friend is courage and determination made manifest. He has walked in the shadow of death and emerged as strong as the sun. He leads with strength and with kindness, with wisdom and with vision. Some consider him a god, but to me he will always be something both more simple and more wondrous. He guides us all to the light.”

Murmurs. Jingling. She sat silent for a moment, eyes still closed, letting the truth of what she’d just said resonate through her soul. All the wonderful things that Benjamin was seemed to take root in her heart and pulse there, as inseparable from her as her own bloodflow: she had never loved him more deeply than she did at that moment. She smiled at him again, seeing an answering affection in his eyes, and passed the bowl to Nerys.

The Bajoran took it nervously and gazed into its depths for a long moment. Even under the mellowing influence of the drug Jadzia began to worry that she might offend their guests, but at last she brought the bowl to her lips and accepted her duty under the circumstances. To Jadzia every tiny detail of her friend seemed magnified: she saw Nerys’ dark lashes touch her cheek, the flush that rose there, the slight parting of her lips as the wine took hold. When she spoke, her voice was clear and strong:

“My friend has many faces, but all of them are aspects of eternal Justice. He is the pole star that all else revolves around — in the heart of chaos he is the unchanging soul of Order. Men come to him to have secrets revealed and disputes laid to rest; none who are not righteous can escape him. He is the voice of Truth.”

This powerful declaration sent a more emphatic stir among the Fonosians. The Niastrum himself smiled at her and shimmered his jewelry more loudly than any. With a visible effort Nerys collected herself again and, looking both surprised and a little pleased, passed the bowl to Odo.

The Changeling took it awkwardly. “I... cannot drink,” he said.

The Niastrum nodded. “It will suffice for you to speak your heart,” he rumbled.

“I don’t have a heart, either,” Odo said. Nerys nudged him with her elbow, and he looked uncomfortable. “Very well...” He thought for a long moment, seeming to consciously loosen some of the inner ties that usually bound his words. In the end he said:

“My friend is... freedom. She has been through so much and has come through it better and stronger. She inspires those around her to fight for what they believe in. She never shrinks from battle or from seeking to create a world where her people will always have peace and safety. I admire her greatly.”

The Fonosians nodded, and Odo passed the bowl to Quark, who drank at once and barely waited before speaking:

“My friend is power and joy and desire and consummation. No other love can compare to it, because while lovers come and go, it remains as long as you have the cunning to hang onto it. I’ve sought it all my life and after death I’ll find enough of it to satisfy my wildest dreams.” He saluted the sky with the bowl. “To latinum!”

Jadzia had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a little laugh. Odo looked disgusted. The Fonosians, however, smiled widely, and Quark, still looking like he was mentally counting out his riches, passed the bowl to Miles.

The Chief seemed no more eager to drink than Nerys, but he steeled himself and went ahead with it. “Friendship, eh?” he said under his breath, staring into middle space. Gradually an expression of realization dawned; Jazdia had seen that look before, in moments when he suddenly solved a complex puzzle of engineering. He sighed softly and a wistful smile settled on his lips.

“My friend is young in body and in heart, with a mind as sharp as sunlight on crystal. He shines with the energy of bright mornings and prowls the night like a sleek and sensual cat. The ladies love him, and he loves himself, and those who learn to know him find refreshment in his presence. His touch heals any wound.”

The Fonosians murmured approval. After a long moment Miles gave himself a little shake and passed the bowl to Julian, smiling at him with almost drunken warmth. Julian smiled back.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Mile’s smile became a beaming grin. Julian turned to the fire, saluted the stars, and raised the bowl to his lips. When he lowered it his dark eyes were contemplative, then amazed, then full of fierce emotion. He closed them and almost sang:

“My friend is a mask-maker and a shadow and an enigma. His tongue is as soft as a dove and as sharp as a hundred swords. He is an alchemist who turns truth into lies and lies into truth. I could listen to him speak for a thousand days and my soul would still thirst for more. He embroiders my life with all the colors of mystery.”

The Fonosians flashed bright smiles and shook their jewelry almost riotously. For a long moment Julian sat still, absorbing the impact of the experience, before turning to Garak and passing the wine.

Garak inclined his head in thanks and drank without pausing to contemplate the contents of the bowl. The effects seemed to take a bit longer to hit him, but at last he said simply:

“My friend is a lifespring of fresh water in the heart of a vast and bitter desert.”

He extended the bowl to the Niastrum, who gazed into his eyes for a long moment and bowed his head, shaking his head to shiver the feathers of his headpeace and set its bells to ringing. The other Fonosians offered a similar salute, quietly shimmering their wealth, but Jadzia scarcely noticed. Her eyes were on Benjamin, and his eyes were on her.

 _We have so much to talk about,_ she thought, amazed at how profoundly connected she felt to this man. There was nothing sexual in the attraction, only the deep harmony between equals and the delight to be found in exploring each other’s minds. How she looked forward to sharing the insights that the Heart’s-Truth-Fruit had granted her! And she could tell that he was just as eager to bare his soul to her.

There was nothing more to be said, at least not to the group at large. The Niastrum rose to his feet and Jadzia followed suit, extending her hand to help Benjamin up and leading him to the nearest fur-covered slope. When she sat down again and leaned against it she found it soft and yielding, perfect for the purpose of relaxing on one elbow and leaning close to whisper in someone’s ear. Her hand remained in Benjamin’s and she looked at him with tender love, squeezing his fingers gently.

“So, Old Man.” His voice was teasing and solemn at once. “How do you think that went?”

“You did beautifully,” she assured him, then glanced around at the others, who were also moving away from the fire. “We all did. I’m sure the Fonosians will be very pleased.”

He turned his hand in hers to touch palm to palm. “Good. This could open the door to an important trade agreement. I’d hate to see it fail just because we couldn’t come up with decent poetry.”

Jadzia laughed, feeling joy warm her all the way down to her toes. “I don’t know about you, Ben,” she said impishly, “but I was feeling particularly inspired.”

“Were you?” So much light in his dark eyes. He leaned closer and she met him halfway, pressing forehead fondly to forehead. “Funny, so was I.”

She was just opening her mouth to expound on her tribute when a shadow came between them and the fire. Looking up, she saw the Niastrum standing before them with a stern and dignified expression.

“Leader-Who-Watches-The-Stars,” he said in his slow deep voice. “Come with me, if you please.”

Without waiting for a response he turned and headed off toward the nearby holographic trees, well away from the fire. Benjamin looked after him for a moment, then back at Jadzia, who nodded. He pushed himself away from the furs and rose to his feet, momentarily swaying slightly, before following the Fonosian leader into the night.

Deprived of the focus of her friend, Jadzia looked around. The other Fonosians had retired to relax in their turn, some in companionable pairs, some curling up alone to drift off into the sweet dreams given by Heart’s-Truth-Fruit. Quark was likewise unpartnered, snuggling down against one of the padded slopes with his eyes closed and a slight smile baring his sharpened teeth — dreaming, no doubt, of all the latinum in the Divine Treasury. Odo was still sitting by the fire, stiff as a poker; Nerys had slid much closer to him, right up against his side in fact, and she was leaning against his shoulder and laughing merrily, her eyes crinkled and bright in the glow of the flames. Odo looked like he wanted to turn liquid and disappear under the nearest convenient rock, but Nerys was too enchanted by her own affection for him to notice.

 _Oh, Odo,_ Jadzia thought with as much sadness as the wine would permit her. _When are you going to tell her?_ Not tonight, from the look of things, and it wasn’t Jadzia’s place to go over there and give things a push. Nerys put her hand on Odo’s arm and looked up, grinning, and for a moment he relented, turning to gaze down at her, the ice in his eyes thawing to reveal a glimpse of the fierce fire that burned beyond... but the Major did not see it. For Odo’s sake, Jadzia hoped that one day she’d come to her senses.

Looking a little further afield, she realized that Julian, Miles and Garak were having no such problems. All three of them were reclining against one of the sets of furs in extremely close proximity to each other, the emnity between the Cardassian and the Chief evidently suspended by Heart’s-Truth-Fruit and service to a common cause: namely Julian, who lay happily on his back between them with an arm around each man's shoulders. Miles was hugging Julian with obvious affection, his eyes blissfully closed and his arms around the younger man’s slender waist and his head on his shoulder, squeezing him as if he was a rather large pillow — and with about as much sexual interest. The same couldn’t be said for Garak, who was engaged in a rather intense kiss with the good Doctor; from the look of things Julian had pulled him down and leaned up to get it, and they both appeared to be enjoying it immensely.

The trio was close enough, and loud enough, that Jadzia could make out their conversation. On Julian’s shoulder Miles was practically giggling. He glanced up with a twinkle in his eyes. “You are such a slut,” he said tenderly, “you know that, don’t you?”

“Mmph!” Julian was too busy kissing Garak to attempt a coherent reply. When their mouths finally parted he said: “I am not!”

Miles started to laugh more heartily, while Garak assured Julian: “Oh, he’s quite right. You’ll sleep with anyone who expresses enough interest in you.”

“Any _woman_ ,” Julian protested, sinking back onto the furs. He unslung his arm from around Miles and wound his fingers up into the black fall of hair at the nape of Garak’s neck, gazing deep into the Cardassian's eyes and practically licking his lips. “I haven’t been with another man in years...”

“And this is neither the time nor the place,” Miles snorted. He reached up, caught hold of Julian’s wrist, and drew his hand down onto his lean stomach, where he deposited it with an admonishing pat. “Just lie back and relax. Let’s cuddle.”

Julian turned exasperated but affectionate eyes on him. “I’m not a teddy bear,” he said pointedly.

For some reason that sent Miles off into another fit of giggles. He wrapped his arm around Julian’s waist again and almost wept against his shoulder, while Garak took hold of Julian’s chin and turned the Human’s head to face him again. “Perhaps not.” His smile was fond. “But you are quite adorable nonetheless.”

Julian boggled at him. “Cardassians have teddy bears?”

“No,” he said, “I’m afraid we lack that particular feature of Human culture. However,” and he ran the backs of curved fingers slowly down Julian’s jaw and onto his neck, “I’d certainly be more than pleased to find _you_ sharing my bed.”

“We’ll ha —” Looking up into his predatory gaze, Julian paused to swallow, his eyes wide, then seductively hooded. “We’ll have to try that sometime, then.”

“Perhaps.” He applied a little bite to the bridge of Julian’s nose, evidently some sort of Cardassian caress. “That was such a lovely tribute, my dear. Thank you.”

Julian glanced down and blushed. “It's... that Heart’s-Truth-Fruit is powerful stuff.”

“I didn’t get a tribute,” Miles mumbled in a mock-angry growl.

“Oh!” Julian looked chagrined. “Well, then...” He closed his eyes, turning his gaze inward. After a brief pause he said:

“My friend is as stern as steel and as warm as a summer afternoon. He has music in his soul and precision in his hands; he turns difficulties into solutions and awkwardness into laughter. He is a terrible enemy but a steadfast friend, relentless in defending those he cares for. He has dealt death but his heart is full of joyous life. He will stand at my side forever.”

After a moment Miles looked up with glistening eyes. “Julian... that was... that was _beautiful!_ ”

The Doctor smiled delightedly. “You’re one of my dearest friends, Miles. I love you.” He looked to Garak, then back to Miles, then back to Garak again, his hazel eyes full of happiness. “I love you both — so very, very much.”

Garak emitted a sound not unlike a Fonosian purr. Miles drew back enough to punch Julian in the upper arm. “I love you too, y’little pest,” he said gruffly, his brogue deepening with emotion. “Y’re like the kid brother who drives me crazy sometimes, but y’know I’d punch out the lights of anyone who tried to hurt you.”

“As would I,” Garak added, “although a punch would not be my first choice of attack.”

“A knife in the back’d be more your style,” Miles agreed, adding in a low voice: “Bloody Cardie...”

“I firmly believe in living to fight another day,” Garak said earnestly. “Preferably without a broken nose to show for my troubles.”

“Don’t fight,” Julian begged, returning his arm to Miles’ shoulders and pulling them both closer. “I’m just...” He closed his eyes briefly and smiled, squirming a little to settle himself more firmly between them. “This is nice. Please don’t spoil it.”

Their eyes met across his chest, and after a moment they both nodded. Miles embraced Julian’s waist again and Garak returned to caressing his face.

“That’s better.” Julian looked positively beautific. He gave Miles a brotherly kiss on the forehead, then turned to give Garak a definitely-not-brotherly kiss on the lips. A sigh of contentment slowly wended its way out of him: “... perfect!”

They settled down, legs entwined, heads close together as their conversation fell to a murmur that Jadzia could no longer overhear. Miles put his chin back on Julian’s shoulder and seemed content to leave it there, embracing the younger man possessively and protectively; Garak maintained enough distance, from the waist up anyway, to be able to study the Doctor’s face as he stroked it, occasionally leaning in to nuzzle at his cheek in a way that made Julian smile all over again, or to trade a lazy kiss. They looked immensely companionable and comfortable and Jadzia’s hearts swelled with pleasure on their behalf. Perhaps the rivalry over Julian’s friendship, which she’d thought was going to go on between Miles and Garak until the station fell apart, might finally come to an end tonight...

Or perhaps not. After all, when the euphoria of the Heart’s-Truth-Fruit wore off they’d wake up sharing one fur, if not one bed. And that might lead to a catfight that would give Julian a headache worthy of a triple dose of triptacederine.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Benjamin coming back into the circle of firelight. He settled down in front of her again, his teeth flashing brilliantly. “Good news, Old Man. The Niastrum liked our poetry! He’s ready to open negotiations.”

Jadzia laughed with delight. “That’s wonderful! I knew you’d convince him.” She leaned forward and laid a hand on his forearm, lightly caressing him. “If anyone could do it, you could. You know, the very first time I met you I knew that you were destined to do great things...”

All awareness of anyone else faded away as she lost herself in her friend’s smile, his scent, his eyes, his laughter. And elsewhere in the darkness others found wonders of their own, while Quark slept on, smiling lecherously and dreaming of riches yet to come.

THE END


End file.
